


Ars Amatoria

by DropsOfAutumn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidentally summoning a demon, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Breaking A Curse, College Student Keith (Voltron), Comeplay, Demon Shiro (Voltron), Happy Ending, Latin Teacher Shiro, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, mentions of dark magic, way softer than you would assume
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26729878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAutumn/pseuds/DropsOfAutumn
Summary: In front of Keith stands a man. Very handsome. Very naked.The marble man he’d just lusted over.No, not just a man.A demon.**Or: The one in which Keith accidentally summons a demon  – who helps him with his Latin homework.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 341





	Ars Amatoria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hymnaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hymnaria/gifts).



> Written for [Hymnaria](https://twitter.com/hymnaria), inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/DropsofAutumn/status/1290302929983778818).  
> Thank you so much for putting your faith in me, I had SO much fun writing this. I added a bit of backstory and 2.000-year-old Shiro trying to get by in a modern world - and falling for cinnamon rolls and Keith.  
> Your prompts inspired me to write so much, hope this story is just what you wanted!💕
> 
> Also please look at [this amazing artwork](https://twitter.com/BettaChief/status/1290498964496822275) by [BettaChief](https://twitter.com/BettaChief)on Twitter. The tweet inspired me to add the scene to the fanfic, please squee if you spot it! 🔥
> 
> Biggest thank you to [LaLionne/otayuriistheliteralbest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuriistheliteralbest/) for fighting with me through this monster, laughing with me about my amazing typos and supporting me with infos about the US education system!💕
> 
> There are a few Latin phrases in this fic. They are mostly added for some flavor, but here is a quick translation for the most "important" sentences. Heads up: It's been a while since my last Latin course, so there might be mistakes in here. Bless online dictionaries!
> 
> _Calo te, daemonem malum = I call you, evil demon  
>  Obsecrabas me, mortalis = you have summoned me, mortal  
> executor horibilis, mactator formidatus, angelus caducus: horrible executor, feared killer, fallen angel  
> Omnia mea mecum parto = All that is mine I carry with me (Cicero)_
> 
> At this point, I want to thank my Latin teachers for bearing with me through 5 years of Latin. Some of the mistakes Keith makes in this fic are actual miss-translation I did in school (and they were so bad I still remember them). Orpheus singing to cute dead animals is my favorite. (Correct translation would be "Orpheus's songs move the spirits", so go ahead and figure how good my Latin grades were, haha)
> 
> The title "Ars Amatoria" means "The Art of Love". It's also the name of an instructional elegy series by Ovid. Ovid also wrote 'The Metamorphoses' which includes the text about Orpheus Keith tries to translate in this fic!
> 
> I hope you have fun, I'm thrilled to hear what you think! 💕

**  
  
“Commovebantur? That’s not even a word!” 

In the five weeks he’s been studying Latin, Keith has learned a lot. 

Latin is old, stuffy, and only tells boring stories of people who are long dead. 

Keith hates it. 

It’s basically doing word-by-word translation of 2,000-year-old texts about ancient people he had never heard of. Hell, the language is so dead, people don’t even speak it anymore. Except maybe the pope. Or his Latin professor who might’ve been around since the fall of the Roman empire himself. That would at least explain why he’s old and dusty and starts every lesson by condemning the use of computers. 

Despite his hatred for the dead language, Keith finds himself crunched over his textbooks on a Sunday afternoon, trying to translate age-old sentences into something that at least makes some kind of coherent sense. 

To no avail. 

There are definitely better ways to spend his Sunday, he thinks. Like polishing his bike and taking it on a ride. Or hanging out with Pidge and Hunk. Hell, even work sounded better than skimming through his Latin dictionary, trying to make sense of something called a ‘Metamorphoses’.

If it had been up to him, he would have never set foot into a single Latin course. But when their semester started, Latin 101 promised exactly the credits he needed. Until now, Keith’s done a great job in avoiding his obligatory language courses up. Also, the prospect of Pidge joining the course (‘Nobody will make me learn French of all languages! Latin is just like Math, Keith, it makes sense!’) and helping him out made the prospect of any language course instantly better. 

Latin 101 was also the only course that did not interfere with his carefully planned-out working schedule. Signing up seemed the most reasonable choice five weeks ago.

But right now, Keith has never hated a language more.  
  
He’s so close to giving Pidge a call, asking her to send him her translation notes. Or her whole translation. Or just... a hint. Honestly, Keith is down to any help at the moment, when even google translate couldn’t help him find a translation that made the slightest bit of sense.

But Pidge has pestered him all week long about the new game coming out this weekend. It includes robots and space and cats – it sounded utterly ridiculous coming from her mouth, but Keith knows Pidge will talk about nothing else for the whole week to come. If not for the damn homework, he would be spending his weekend with her. 

Spending the weekend at Pidge’s usually means lots of homemade treats from her roommate Hunk. Or staying up late devouring energy drinks and unhealthy amounts of takeaway food. Keith loves these weekends. Before moving to college, Keith got to experience a lot of orphanages, schools, and day-cares. In all his moving around, what he’d genuinely missed, had been a friend. 

So when Katie Holt fell asleep on his notes in Astrophysics 101 the second week into his freshman year, Keith did not know that this would end up in gaming weekends, fast food restaurant raids, and pre-test all-nighters filled with Hunk’s muffins and laughter.

Of course, Keith can’t blame Pidge for his inability to Latin. It was mostly his professor’s fault the language just didn’t want to make sense in Keith’s head. 

The first two lessons were easy. He learned to say that Marcus is standing on the forum. Easy vocabulary and easy sentence structure. 

Easy enough not to pay attention during lesson number three and miss lesson number four because he had to help out at work.

And suddenly, as he was faced with participle constructions, a variety of strange past tenses and word endings he’d never thought existed, Keith decided that, wow, no, Latin is definitely not his favourite language.

So here he is, five weeks into the semester, tearing his hair out over someone named Orpheus, singing to dead animals. The translation is due tomorrow and, frankly, Keith has no idea how he will survive this course, let alone ace it so it won’t kill his grades.

There’s a wall of text in his book, tiny letters, and long words, making his head hurt the second he tries to decipher the sentences. His professor’s a sadist, Keith thinks, as his eyes drift to the picture next to the text. A welcome distraction from the small letters that make absolutely no sense in his head.  
  
It’s a picture of a Roman sculpture, visibly soft features of a man in white marble. 

Pretty handsome. And pretty naked. 

He’s beautiful, Keith thinks. Built like a Roman god, the span of his muscles firm and defined despite the hard marble they were carved from. 

He really must be a Roman god or demon, Keith thinks, as he lets his eyes wander over the sculpture. His face has handsome features, sharp angles, and sharp cheekbones, and the faint outline of a scar running over his nose. The sculptor made even his hair look soft. So soft Keith wants to run his fingers through it. 

His arms are firm, his biceps massive and beautiful. Keith is sure the man could lift him and press him against the wall, preferably while pressing his kissable lips against Keith’s. There’s a geometrical pattern on one of his arms, sharp and clear lines, making Keith stop for a second, wondering what those meant. Maybe some kind of jewelry.

Keith’s eyes wander downward, over a flat stomach and the curves of abs looking so realistic Keith thinks he can actually feel them when his finger traces over the sculpture’s stomach.

Keith’s gaze follows his fingers, slowly running down the sculpture’s torso.

Only to notice his mistake.

Because his eyes get stuck on the sight between the man’s thighs.

And Keith feels the heat rush to his cheeks.

He’s seen cocks. In community showers, or the magazines he had tried to hide underneath his pillow back in the orphanage. He really does not mind seeing a pretty nice cock. Not at all, in fact. 

Usually, the problem is (if he wants to call it a problem), that most specimens he’s seen from up close have been far from handsome to look at. But this one. 

Wow. 

He might have forgotten how to breathe for a second looking at the shape of the soft cock and the delicate hairs at the base, looking so fragile.

Keith curses under his breath as he feels his blood rush south. Those sculptors could at least have given their works some decency, so the sculptures wouldn’t distract bored students from their classwork. 

Keith dares a last peek at the man’s illegally pretty crotch before he lets his eyes wander lower.

This body is not giving him any rest, Keith thinks. Because the sculpture’s legs are picturesque, probably strong enough to crush Keith. And thinking about them doesn’t help at all to prevent even more blood to rush towards his erection, already half-hard and pressing against his pants. The thought of being crushed by those strong thighs is just too good.

Damn, he knows it’s been a while since he’d seen a naked man up close, but getting all hot and bothered over a statue of a dude that’s about 2,000 years old is its own brand of frustration. With a desperate laugh on his lips, Keith’s eyes wander further down. 

The pedestal is carved with big letters. Latin words, Keith assumes. The stone is old and battered, so it’s hard to read. He has to bend closer to the book to read the words, ghosting his fingers over the place where the letters are set in stone.

“Calo te, daemonem malum, ” Keith whispers. 

He has no idea how Latin pronunciation works, but it probably should not sound like this. He laughs at his weak attempt to speak the dead language and lets his eyes skim over to the dictionary part in the back of the book to translate the carving on the pedestal. 

But he barely manages to turn the page when the book under his hands starts to get hot. Super hot. So hot Keith lets it fall from his hands. 

He shouts out loud as he loses his balance, stumbling backward. 

The book starts to actually glow. Like.  
  
“What the hell?”

The light coming from the book is white and too bright for his eyes. Keith covers his face, not daring to move. Heck, is the book spontaneously combusting? He’s not even sure there’s a fire detector in his dorm room, let alone an extinguisher. But before he can jump up to throw the book into the sink, Keith is forced backward, his ass landing on the ground as his chair clatters to the floor. 

He did not think the light could get any brighter, but it’s blinding him so much he has to close his eyes completely. 

Killed by his Latin homework. What a way to go, Keith thinks. 

Before his life can flash before his eyes, the light vanishes, leaving him in complete darkness.

“Obsecrabas me, mortalis,” a voice speaks suddenly. 

It’s a deep voice, rough words echoing through the tiny room. They are angry, threatening. And still, Keith feels something warm underneath. It makes him open his eyes.

The room is engulfed in darkness,as if all the lights had been absorbed in an instant.

Right in front of him hovers a man. Keith does a double-take. The man is floating, four feet above the ground. 

And he’s massive, at least nine feet tall. So big that the black horns curling from his hair are dangerously close to touching the ceiling. 

The man is surrounded by a violet aura that laps around his dark purple skin and illuminates his body. Keith can make out streaks of lavender winding down the man’s body, shapes dangerous and daring. 

He’s built like a Roman god, his thighs so thick that they could crush Keith in an instant. With abs so firm Keith wants to let his hands run over every single curve. His biceps strong enough to cradle Keith easily, press him to a wall and hold him close. Where his right arm should be, there are lights glowing purple, lines forming the most beautiful geometrical forms as if wrapping an arm that is not there... 

The man’s black eyes are so deep and beautiful, Keith has a hard time not losing himself in them. 

There’s a deep red scar running over his nose and it’s a stark contrast to the white of his hair, the color of the stone he’s been made of just minutes ago. 

In front of Keith stands a man. Very handsome. Very naked. 

The marble man he’d just lusted over.

No, not just a man. 

A demon.

“Dice, mortalis!” The demon’s voice sounds through the room, sending shivers down Keith’s spine. 

But Keith tries not to show his fear. 

“Who are you?” he asks, lowering his arms now that no light is blinding him anymore.

“Oh, an anglophone dialect,” the demon answers in English, adding, “tell me. Who has summoned me?”  
  
“Keith.” He’s not proud of the way the answer comes out, confusion vibrating in his voice. It’s not enough that Keith’s just summoned a freaking demon out of his Latin textbook. The demon also switches between languages like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Keith who?” The demon’s voice still bellows, resonating in the tiny flat.

“Just Keith.” 

“Ave, Just Keith.” At least that was some basic Latin Keith knew. Be greeted.

Still, there’s a freaking ancient demon floating in his room, naked. “Who are you?” 

“You, mortal, are faced with a 2,000-year-old demon, excetutor horibilis, mactator formidatus, angelus caducus…” The demon lists what seemed to be an endless list of titles. All of them sound more horrible than the one before - still, Keith has no idea what he’s saying. When the demon does not seem to stop anytime soon, Keith has to fight back a yawn.

“But you can call me Shiro,” the demon ends, lowering himself on the floor so he stands right in front of Keith. He’s still massive. And massively naked.

And suddenly, the purple light vanishes from around him. 

Keith lowers his arms now that no light is blinding him anymore.

“That sounds… very Japanese to me,” Keith notes.  
  
“The last person who summoned me was a great Japanese warrior.” The demon shrugs. And Keith has never thought he would see a demon nonchalantly shrug. But he’s never thought he would accidentally summon a Roman demon by reading his textbook, to begin with. 

“He called me Shiro. I like the name.” 

“So, how is this whole thing going? Since you haven’t killed me yet… Are you something like my fairy godmother? Do I get three wishes?”

“Fairy godmother? I’m an age-old entity, pride of the Roman underworld, your worst nightmare, and gruesome demon.” The explanation brings back Shiro’s bellowing voice. 

“Okay, bad demon, age-old being... I get it.” Keith rolls his eyes at the way too long title Shiro uses for himself. 

And his eyes fall onto the coursework in front of him. 

It gives him an idea. He points his fingers at the book in front of him, catching Shiro’s attention. 

“The more important question is: ‘How do you translate this? It does not make sense at all! Why does Orpheus revive the cute dead animals?’” 

“Cute dead... what?” Keith’s attempt to translate the text earns him a crooked eyebrow from the demon.

“Here: The Carmina Orpheus line.” Keith points a finger at the line he’s spent the last thirty minutes translating.

Shiro takes the book in his own hands and lifts it closer to his face, squinting his eyes. And he sighs. “Keith. It’s, ‘With his sweet songs, he moves the spirits.’ Animus is not ‘animal’.”

“Oh.” He knew that. Yeah. definitely.

“Orpheus’s stupid anyway,” Keith says, a weak attempt to divert from his obvious very stupid mistake. ´'He goes into the underworld. Of course, his wife gets lost on the way.”

The doubtful gaze the demon sends in his direction makes Keith want to cringe. “Excuse me?”  
  
“Here.” Keith points at another paragraph, a few lines above the line about the cute animals. “He loses his wife as he descends into the world under the earth.” The demon looks at the sentence structure in front of him. When it takes a moment for him to respond, Keith fears the worst. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” the demon says, nonchalantly. 

Yeah, great, Keith thinks. He knew he sucked at Latin, but getting told so by a 2,000-year-old native speaker kind of hurts.

But to his surprise, Shiro does not stop there. “It’s ‘after he lost his wife..’” The demon explains. And it catches Keith by surprise. “Come again?” 

“It’s an Ablativus Absolutus.” 

“An absolute ass?” 

Keith knows he must have heard that wrong. But Latin sucks and so does his pronunciation. 

“Urgh, no, look.” The demon sighs before he bends down over Keith’s notes, pointing at a paragraph Keith’s circled in his grammar sheet before. “You have to translate it as a participle construction.” Keith is sure his eyes can’t get any bigger. 

A what now?

“I have literally no idea what you just said.” 

The demon lifts the tips of his fingers to his temple, sighing in frustration. “Look,” he starts, massaging his forehead. “Try starting the sentence with ‘After’.”

Keith’s eyes focus back on the sentence before him. “After he..?” 

“After he lost his wife, he descended into the underworld. Yes.”

And wow. That actually made sense! 

It’s Keith’s turn to groan in frustration, burrowing his face in his hands. “How am I supposed to see that?!”  
  
“I mean, to be fair, Ovid had a habit of making sentences unnecessarily complicated. But that’s a whole different story. I told him not to skip the verbs, but...”

“You told him?”  
  
“Yeah, age-old demon, remember?” Keith wants to wipe the self-sufficient grin from the demon’s face. 

“So, age-old, honorable demon. Do I get my three wishes now?” 

“Three wishes?”

The sight of Shiro pondering could be cute. If it wasn’t for a nine-feet deity with a massive body, sharp horns, and a magical aura. 

It might not be the best idea to mess with Shiro.

“Well. Fine. Yeah,” the demon says, suddenly. “Let’s do that. Three wishes for Dominus Keith, and I’ll be gone.” Keith raises one eyebrow. He’s definitely not a master. 

Instead of pointing that out, he slides his Latin textbook in Shiro’s direction.

“So, demon. Since you’re already here, you can at least help me with the rest of this text. Any more abs I need to spot?” 

“Ablativus.” Shiro rolls his eyes as he sits down. Not on the chair next to Keith, but on the free spot on the table.

Keith gulps at the sight of the thick thighs right next to his notes. His arm seems small against the leg, Shiro’s thigh is about three times the circumference of Keith’s forearm. 

The worst part is not staring at the place where Shiro is still horribly naked between his legs. And as a mighty Roman demon, he’s massive in all places. Keith sweats. 

“I did say that,” Keith says, as he is happy to focus back on his notes in distraction - a blank page filled with lots of crossed-out words.

“I wasn't kidding, you know? I really need to pass this course with good grades. So. My first wish: Can you stay until my term is over and help me ace this course?”

There’s a dangerous twinkle in the demon’s eyes before he answers.

“Me, being a Latin teacher. Yeah. Let’s do this!”

The demon throws his head back when he laughs and Keith catches a glimpse of the sharp teeth when Shiro grins.

Well. 

Who knew Latin could be this sexy?  
  
**

With Shiro’s help, finishing his classwork is easier than Keith thought.

When he finishes translating the last sentence, he even feels quite proud. He might have understood how to use an absolute ass, thanks to his incredibly good looking teacher. 

And well… while his Latin homework turned out easier than expected, Keith is faced with a.. bigger problem.

Because doing something against Shiro’s distracting nakedness seems a challenge no knowledge of ancient grammar could solve.

“You want to force me into this tiny piece of clothing, human?” Shiro eyes the boxer shorts suspiciously. They look tiny in his enormous hands and the way the long claws curl around the piece of clothing brings a warmth to Keith’s cheeks. 

He has no idea where to look anymore. Apparently ever part of the demon’s body affects Keith in a way that he is anything but proud of. 

The boxer shorts in Shiro’s hands have been collecting dust in the back of his wardrobe for months now. An ungrateful left-over from a one night stand Keith still regrets. The guy might have been huge and buff, just like he liked, but also a terrible kisser. And would not shut up about himself. The second the guy had disappeared into the bathroom after a more than disappointing blowjob, Keith had taken the chance to collect his clothing from the ground and stumble out of the stranger’s apartment. It was only at home that he noticed he’d taken the wrong underwear in his hurry. 

“And you’re sure it’s the latest fashion? I remember human clothing to be more.. breezy.” Shiro’s eyes roam over Keith’s body, leaving Keith awfully exposed. He wondered what Shiro thought of casual clothing on Keith. Tight pants and a t-shirt most likely had not been in fashion during the Roman empire. 

Keith’s seen the pictures in his Latin coursebook. People in wide and billowing tunics. It was easy to imagine the purple demon skin wrapped in layers of soft white fabric. Just as easy as to feel equally fluttered by the image. 

“Yeah, everyone’s wearing them!” Keith tries to bury the thoughts, his shrug forcefully casual as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants. 

Shiro crooks his eyebrow at the piece of fabric. “Well, trying won’t hurt, won’t it?” 

Of course, Shiro rips the boxer shorts apart. Or, rather his thighs to do.

Keith should have seen it coming. 

He looks for a towel instead, a big one that Shiro uses to mimic a toga as best as possible. 

The towel, artistically wrapped around Shiro’s midsection still leaves the demon’s abs exposed, but it provides at least the slightest bit of decency. 

“So, what now?” Keith asks once the demon is content with his work. “You said three wishes.”

“Yes, three wishes. actually two left once your Latin grades are safe,” Shiro explains. 

“Any wishes?” Keith’s eyebrow lifts. The sheer possibilities. _Goodbye, student debts_ .

“Hm, I won’t kill anyone for you. And no resurrection. Or making you incredibly rich. I can find lost relatives, make animals talk, simple stuff like that.” 

“No killing, huh? So for a demon, you’re pretty boring.” Keith sighs, leaning back in his chair. Why have three wishes, if you can’t bring someone back from the dead? Or pay his student loans for him?

There’s a dangerous glow in Shiro’s eyes and Keith swears he can see a faint purple aura forming around the demon again. 

“And you are pretty brave for a human. You sure you want to play with my temper?” Shiro says, but Keith only shrugs, ignoring the demon’s demanding voice.

“So,” Keith starts instead. “Do you disappear until I need you next time?” He might mix this up with some other mythical creature he had never thought existed. At this point, Keith couldn’t be shocked any further.

Shiro’s eyes find his. Seeing the confusion on the hard features of the demon’s face is weirdly charming. Especially when it makes the faint purple aura disappear again. “If that is your second wish, I’ll be glad to command.”

“Ah, no, no, that’s not a second wish. Guess you can stay?” Keith thinks out loud. If he has two more wishes, he might make good use of them. So he might sleep a night or two over what he wishes for next.

The demon props his hands in his sides. “So it’s decided. I will stay at your palace. You can show me around my humble rooms, mortal.“ 

A sad laugh escapes Keith's lips before he notices Shiro really means it. He must be used to living areas that span more than Keith’s tiny apartment. He was proud of the fact that he could afford this two-room flat, but to a 2,000-year-old demon, the apartment must look like nothing more than a shoebox.

“Take a look around. That’s as fancy as it gets.” In a mocking gesture, Keith lifts his arm, showing Shiro around. “This couch is all I can offer you.”

The confusion is still on the demon’s face. Understandably - the demon is easily twice the size of the couch. Making him fit will be an adventure, Keith thinks.

He’s about to suggest that maybe his bed is a tiny bit bigger, his eyes fall to the clock.

And he stops in his tracks.  
  
“Damn, I need to get to work!” Keith blurts out, hastily shutting his laptop.  
  
Something in his gut tells him leaving an ancient demon alone in his flat for a few hours might not be the best idea. Still, he needs the money and casually bringing a purple nine feet man with horns to work could get him kicked out. He might have to deal with the most curious customers on a regular basis, but none of them had glowing eyes and magic powers.  
  
“Can you just… stay here for a couple of hours? Just don’t.. break anything,” Keith says as he hears the sofa dangerously creaking under Shiro’s weight.

If Shiro was to stay for a while, they might have to get used to some new living arrangements. An ancient magical creature in his living room could cause some problems.  
  
Shiro being incredibly attractive might be the biggest one.  
  


**

“Yeah, I know it’s sudden, Hunk. But my cousin appeared on my doorstep and he really needs some clothes in a… bigger size.” Keith’s previous sweep through his wardrobe had left him with exactly nothing to wear for the demon. There were times when being skinny and preferring tight clothes causes problems. 

Turns out having a nine feet demon appear in your living room stark naked is one of these times.  
  
Luckily for Keith, he remembered to call Hunk on his way back home from work. Hunk is a bit on the bigger side - perfect hugging size, he liked to say - and Keith can’t thank him enough when Hunk talks about a few sweaters he wants to get rid of anyway.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s Sunday evening and Pidge is fighting the end boss.” Keith curses as he tries to balance his phone between his ear and his shoulder. There’s a bag with groceries in his one hand and his keys in the other. 

“Tomorrow? That would be amazing.” With a sigh, Keith opens the door. Hunk might be the best solution to avoid the demise of having to look at a naked Roman demon for an indefinite amount of time.

During work, Keith’s thoughts had produced the wildest ideas of what Shiro would do in his absence. From setting his flat on fire, to rearranging his furniture to killing himself with a pair of scissors, or giving himself an electric shock on the TV – Keith’s imagination seems to be running wild today. To be fair, he blames the fact that there was a freaking Roman demon in his flat, giving him Latin lessons.

“Oh, master Keith, you’re back.” Shiro sits up the second Keith enters the flat. 

What Keith hasn’t been prepared for is the sight of the huge demon lounging on his sofa, watching TV and munching on a bowl of cheese. Shiro must have found the remote control. 

It’s weirdly domestic.

“You’ve found the television,” Keith says, his eyes falling to the television. Shiro’s gaze follows his.  
  
“The problems of the people in this tiny box are very dramatic,” Shiro explains, pointing to the screen. Keith huffs as he sees a familiar telenovela running. 

“But I liked this story. Is there more?” Shiro points to a pile of comics on Keith’s table. It’s Keith’s favourite series and wow, Keith thinks, the demon has some good taste.

There’s no space left for Keith to sit on his couch, so Keith fetches a chair from his kitchen table, sits down, and empties the contents of his plastic bag on the table in front of the demon.

“I brought some food. I don’t know if demons need to eat, but still… dig in if you like.” It’s nothing much, just some leftovers he took from the coffee shop, a few sandwiches, a cinnamon roll, and some chocolate bars that were past their expiration date but still good. 

Tested by Keith in one of his breaks in need of a sugar rush. 

So Keith sits down, taking one of the sandwiches. 

It’s charming, seeing the demon look in confusion over the assortment on the table before he picks up a sandwich, pondering at the plastic wrapping.

“This is how you do it,” Keith explains, opening the package in his hands.

The demon imitates his action, managing to free the sandwich, but he hesitates, sniffing at the bread instead of taking a bite.

“It’s a sandwich,” Keith says as if it was the most logical thing. He’s never considered if there were sandwiches in ancient Rome. Must have sucked living back then.

Shiro looks at him, then down to the bread in his hands and back to Keith, before he cautiously takes a bite and munches.

And munches again.

And opens his mouth to gulp down the whole sandwich in one go.

Chicken sandwiches, Keith makes a mental note, before he opens another plastic wrapper, handing Shiro one with ham.

This one is also eagerly devoured. 

The sight of Shiro enjoying the food in front of him and discovering his love for ham and crispy chicken is fascinating. The huge and frightening demon sitting on his couch in nothing but an old towel, showing weirdly human features, his eyes glowing with joy like a starved kid on Christmas. 

Keith nearly forgets to eat when Shiro unwraps the cinnamon roll, licking the sugar frosting from his (way to long and way too thick) fingers. 

He’s not proud of how he feels his blood rush south at the sight. Especially not when Shiro groans after the first bite. 

“This is perfect,” the demon says. And Keith squirms in his seat. 

“Oh human, you have some very exquisite skills with baking,” the demon exclaims in joy.

“I didn’t make any of this,” Keith tries to explain, but his words get lost in Shiro’s happy munching.

A demon with a sweet tooth. What a day.

**

It doesn’t take long for Shiro to fight his way through the mountain of food. Keith nearly forgets to eat, but he saves a sandwich and two chocolate bars from Shiro’s hungry rampage.

Shiro is in a food coma, lying on his couch and humming pleasantly as Keith collects the empty plastic.

Their humble silence is broken when the demon speaks. “So what did I miss in the last few centuries?”

The laugh that escapes Keith is a weird mixture between surprised and sad. The past 500 years had been a historic shit-show and Keith thinks for a second to leave Shiro in blissful ignorance. 

“A lot,” he explains eventually. “A lot of politics, a whole industrial revolution, Michael Jackson. And oh, they invented the sandwich. But you already know that.” 

“A lot, huh?” The demon laughs. “How is the Roman empire doing?” 

And Keith’s face falls. “Uhm,” he says. “You know... how about you Google it?” 

He has no idea how the demon would take the news of the Roman empire being dead given the high civilization they once were. 

He has no idea how to break it to Shiro that now only hoards of tourists walked the paths were once gladiators and emperors walked, leaving rubbish and destruction instead.

The demon squints his eyes, his nose wrinkling in the process - twisting the scar there in the cutest way.

“Google,” the demon says, his lips curling around the o’s in confusion.

“Yeah, you know, use a computer. Oh.” Keith curses himself as soon as he says this. Of course, Shiro does not know. How should he? 

The demon only stares at him, completely baffled. “Why would I need to calculate something?”

“Calculate?” Keith repeats. Where did this come from?

“Computare,” Shiro answers like it was the most natural word to know. If only Keith hadn’t skipped learning his Latin vocabulary.

So he decides to show Shiro instead of trying to fight his way through ancient words. 

“This is what we call a computer. You can use it like a big library,” he explains as he points to the laptop on his table. They had solved his homework earlier on the computer and Keith had assumed Shiro knew how it worked. But as it seems, assuming was not the way when you were faced with someone who’s been asleep for the past centuries.

The demon’s eyes glow as Keith explains how a computer works and why he should use one. “Amazing, mankind has evolved so much.”  
  
‘Oh you sweet summer child,’ Keith thinks as he considers what the demon is about to discover. If it wasn’t for a single obstacle.  
  
“There’s only one problem,” he explains. “I need this computer for university. There are some free laptops on campus you could use… but I don’t know how to get you on campus like this.”  
  
“Like this?” The confusion on his face makes Shiro seem so human, Keith notices. And he might as well be. Because for an ancient and wise demon, Shiro seems a bit slow.  
  
“Yeah. Nine feet, purple, glowing arm…” Keith points at him, letting his eyes roam over Shiro’s body “Horns.” he underlines the last point with a vague gesture to his head, leaving Shiro even more confused. So Keith adds “Not very human.”  
  
“Oh, I can change forms,” the demon says nonchalantly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Yes, I can change into a human form, if that works better for you.” Shiro’s explanation sounds casual. Keith slumps back into his chair, groaning.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?”  
  
The demon only shrugs.

And maybe, Keith thinks, Shiro changing into a human form will solve a lot of problems.  
  


***  
  
It does not. It only causes more problems.

Because human-sized Shiro is terribly attractive. 

He’s just as muscular as demon Shiro, with a strong jaw and soft black hair. There are white strands in the front, but Keith does not dare to tease him about “a sign of age.” Shiro’s shape might have changed, but his magical powers remained the same. 

The stripes on the demon’s skin are gone and his eyes are no longer glowing yellow, but dark and deep. His features are distinctively Japanese, Keith thinks. “This was what I looked like when my last master summoned me. I like this shape,” Shiro explains.

Keith likes it, too. A bit too much. 

And so he takes his 2,000-year-old demon with him on campus the next day, dropping him off at the library (“See you in two hours. Don’t burn anything down.”) before he goes to his classes. The last thing he sees of Shiro is a smile and a waving gesture before he disappears in the building. 

Of course, Keith can’t focus. Latin drags, as always. And even the fact that he understands some of the words his teacher uses and even explains to a very confused Pidge how to translate an ablativus absolutus (“Why do they call their grammar ‘absolute asses’?” “I really don’t know, Pidge. I really don’t know.”) can’t keep his thoughts from drifting to Shiro. Shiro, who surely won't be amused when Keith has to admit that he has, again, no idea what his Latin homework is all about.

Because Keith spends the next two hours coming up with the worst case scenarios of one ancient demon and the internet. 

A burned down library, some crashed computers and crying librarians are only the tip of the iceberg of his imagination. 

So when the library still stands and there are no signs of flames anywhere as Keith leaves his classes later with a big bag full of Hunk’s clothes, he’s close to being disappointed. 

Human Shiro is a puppy, Keith decides shortly after. He finds him sitting on the second floor of the library, deep in thoughts over a book with Roman letters that Keith can’t read. One hand is curled into the white tuft of his hair and he looks concentrated - until he hears Keith approach. He looks up and beams at Keith.  
  
“Your calculator didn't want to cooperate, but I found these papers.” Shiro’s smile is warm and pure. No sign of the intimidating purple demon in his features.

As much as Keith appreciates the fact that the library still stands, he has to admit the Latin textbook with age-old texts in Shiro’s hands won’t help him find out what he’s missed in the past centuries. And while the demon knows his way around Roman history and weird grammar, he’s obviously not omnipotent.

All the movies lied, Keith chuckles, as he nods to the free computers in the library. “Do you want me to show you how to google?”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Shiro answers, squinting his eyes.

“Google. Search. Browse the internet.” 

The demon raises an eyebrow.

Keith sighs. “We have a long way to go.”

He grabs Shiro’s textbook and motions him to follow. “I really need some coffee, first.”  
  
“Coffee?”

  
Yeah. A really long way.

**  
  
“Whoever thought roasted beans are an adequate equivalent for herbal tea is a savage,” Shiro explains twenty minutes later. 

They exit the coffee shop on campus with cups of steaming coffee in their hands and a paper bag filled with a variety of pastries to satisfy what Shiro called ‘insatiable hunger.’

After the first sip, Shiro’s lips curl in disgust, the bitter taste of black coffee clearly not his favourite.

“Why would you drink that?”  
  
Keith shrugs. “Must be nice to be awake after sleeping for 500 years - I’m happy if I’m getting five hours a night. This stuff does wonder.”

And if he has to drink Shiro’s coffee, too, he really won’t complain. 

  
**

It’s easy to get used to Shiro’s presence, Keith thinks. 

What started out as one afternoon at the library turns into days and weeks, and soon they find themselves cramped over books and computers, armed with hot drinks and cinnamon rolls, trying to show Shiro what he’s missed while being petrified.

Turns out Shiro loves herbal tea, pastries, and getting lost in the most random historical facts. 

He also loves watching television and devouring science fiction books and comics - and Keith is happy to share his collection with him. They make a habit of sitting on the sofa and talking about their favorite characters and plotlines in between Latin sessions. Shiro is especially invested in the spin-off series that focuses on space travel and distant futures. The way his eyes glow every time Keith shows him space ship models and sci-fi movies make him look like a little kid on Christmas (“Mankind has really made it to space? Wow!”). 

Keith is happy to provide more information and theories. Because spending their evenings on the sofa and talking about space becomes Keith’s favourite part of the day.

On the weekends, they go sightseeing. 

Keith finds that Shiro is very easy to impress. He loves animals (which leaves them patting every dog in the park), sweet food (so they have to stop at ice cream parlors and bakeries), and watching people. Because Shiro has never seen so many people. Or cars. 

His first encounter with a car leaves Keith with his heart hammering against his chest and Shiro’s eyes glowing in a dangerous yellow. To be fair, the driver had seen Shiro jump onto the road in front of him early enough to hit the brakes. But stopping right in front of the demon and cursing at him loudly has really earned him the two enormous dents Shiro’s hands left on the hood of the car.

And Keith decides that, maybe, it’s better to keep Shiro as far away from cars as possible. 

Some days, Keith comes back from his part-time job to Shiro lounging on his couch in some oversized sweater and glasses (“ _2.000 years have taken a toll on my eyes, Keith!_ ”). He’s watching TV or reading a book, telling Keith about some war in Europe. And it’s the most domestic sight. 

Keith is grateful for the recent addition of oversized sweaters and fitting underwear. Because Shiro also has a habit of simply forgetting he’s supposed to wear clothes. Keith still hasn’t recovered from the last encounter of a very naked, very handsome Shiro lounging on his sofa, telling him he wants to ‘dry in the sun’ after a shower. 

Keith’s dreams have not recovered either, and it’s getting harder and harder to jerk off unnoticed in the shower.

On the contrary, it’s getting easier and easier to get used to Shiro occupying his shower or sharing the couch while their knees touch. Shiro also falls for hot cocoa and Keith really has nothing against that small milk mustache that forms on top of the demon’s lips every time he drinks. 

The demon who, as Keith notices, seems to like his human state way too much. 

And Keith won’t complain. Because human Shiro is just as handsome as his demon form.

In fact, Shiro is just big… everywhere.

He’s about 6 feet 4, with a chest that Keith wants to bury himself in. And thighs that he could smash melons with. Shiro’s human form has just as many firm and beautiful abs as his demon form, and though Keith kind of misses the stripes and the horns, he’s grateful for Shiro’s kind and beautiful eyes and his strong jaw. And the smile Shiro sends him sometimes, bright and beautiful every time Keith lets him try some new food, is so heartwarming it’s hard to remember this big puppy in front of him is actually an age-old demon with the power to kill humans and bring destruction and misery to mankind.  
  
The only thing reminding Keith of Shiro’s demon side is his arm. Where the demon’s arm consisted of purple lights, forming the outline of an arm, sits an actual arm, apparently made of flesh and blood, dark purple lines running over it a stark contrast to the light skin. From far away, it looks like a very fancy tattoo sleeve.

Keith really wants to ask him about the story behind the arm. Or why there are so many scars on his human body. But it feels intrusive - and he really does not want to arouse Shiro’s anger.

He assumes the arm glows purple every time Shiro is in emotional distress. He’s seen it glowing purple only once before - and it was when Shiro found out the Roman empire went down about 1,500 years ago, leaving only ruins and tourist traps behind. 

Keith had imagined Shiro would be furious, reducing most of the building to rubble and ash. Instead, his eyes and his arm started glowing and his mouth started to twitch dangerously. Keith was happy they were the only ones in the library at that time because surely somebody would have noticed the horns forming over Shiro’s head or the purple aura radiating around his body. 

In his panic to do something, anything to stop Shiro from turning back into the nine feet demon, Keith grabbed Shiro’s shoulder, a firm grip shaking the demon lightly. 

“Shiro. Shiro, it’s okay. I’m here,” he said, a weak attempt to reach Shiro with his words. And still, it seemed to work. Because Keith could see the yellow glow disappear from his eyes, bringing back Shiro’s soft gaze.

“Thank you, Keith,” Shiro said once the purple aura had lifted. His words were raw, sad. Reaching something deep in Keith.

“It’s good to have you back,” Keith answered. 

And he knew he meant it. 

**  
  
“We fucked up!” 

It’s well into the semester when Keith comes home, banging the front door in frustration. 

He’s greeted by a demon lounging on his couch in a sweater and a pair of dangerously well-fitting jogging pants. They leave just about nothing to Keith’s imagination, making Keith gulp when Shiro shifts to greet him, gesturing for Keith to join him on the sofa. It’s so hard not to stare at Shiro’s lap and Keith feels the heat crawl to his cheeks when his eyes fall on the obvious outline in Shiro’s pants. 

“What is it?” He’s grateful when Shiro pulls him from his thoughts. Unfortunately, Shiro’s face is even more handsome, especially when he’s concerned like this. He looks... distinctly human.

Keith shoves his thoughts away as he lets his bag drop to the floor and he slumps down on the couch next to Shiro.

“My Latin prof. He loves me,” Keith groans, burying his face in his hands.  
  
He hears Shiro’s soft chuckle before he hears his words. “I don’t exactly see the problem.”  
  
When Keith peeks through his fingers, there’s a soft smile on Shiro’s lips. “He wants me to read my coursework out loud next week,” he explains, still cursing his professor for the assignment. Maybe asking Shiro for help with his Latin hasn’t been the best idea. 

“That’s great, Keith!” Shiro’s hand finds his shoulder in what Keith assumes is a reassuring gesture. Keith blames it on the demon magic in the purple lines on his skin that he feels shivers where Shiro’s fingers delve into his skin, giving him goosebumps.  
  
“My pronunciation sucks!” Keith explains, trying his best to keep his composure. He tries his best to look anywhere but Shiro’s crotch, or his thick legs, or the handsome features of his collarbone peeking out from underneath his sweater. 

Or the big grin on his lips as he says his next words. “So we have to practice!” 

Keith raises an eyebrow at the demon. Shiro must be kidding.  
  
*

Shiro is, in fact, not kidding. 

It’s only ten minutes later that they are both sitting on the couch. Keith’s trying to keep his eyes glued to the text in front of him. It’s hard, really hard. Because Shiro has rolled up his sleeves and damn, Keith never knew forearms could be that attractive. But here he is, doing his best not to lust after the way the muscles move underneath Shiro’s skin every time he shifts his long fingers.  
  
The conditions are anything but optimal and Keith has no idea at all how he should focus on speaking the goddamn dead language. Nobody actively speaks it anymore, anyway. And Keith is pretty sure why. The pronunciation is way too difficult. 

“Omni...a?” He tries, feeling like a cat in front of a keyboard, hammering away. Shiro has already said the line a few dozen times, but that does not make it any easier. Keith knows he’s a lost cause, that much is sure.

“Omnia mea mecum parto. Let’s just sound it out, ok? OH-m.” He adores Shiro’s patience, phrasing out every vowel and consonant. It makes Keith want to do his best.

“Ooohm…;” Keith starts. He knows he’s wrong the second the vowel is out of his mouth. It’s no use continuing anyway. He will never get this. “Argh. I can’t.” 

“Keith, I know you can do it. Patience yields focus, remember?” Shiro’s words are just as soft as the smile on his lips. How can the demon be so damn positive when Keith obviously sucks so much at this whole damn mess?  
  
Keith sighs, trying it again.

“Ohh..m...nee.ahh?” And... oh... this one did not sound so bad? 

“Good!” Shiro’s smile grows wider, pointing at the sentence on the sheet again. And Keith feels brave enough to try the next part.

“Omnia mea?” It’s tentative, comes out slow, but it sounds… right? Like Shiro? 

“Excellent.”

“Omnia mea mecum parto,” Keith says and it might not sound as perfect as Shiro, but his guts tell him he didn’t fuck up just as bad. 

“Keith, that was perfect! You’re getting the hang of this!” Shiro’s hand finds his shoulder, a well-known gesture by now, one that Keith does not want to miss anymore. He doesn’t know how he’s made it so far without Shiro’s reassuring grip.

“I have the best teacher.”  
  
And the warm smile on Shiro’s lips brings a fuzzy feeling to Keith’s cheeks.

Keith is sure it’s just the euphoria of getting the sentence right. 

And not the soft hum of his heart beating way too fast for the handsome man in front of him whose laugh makes his veins sing. 

**

When he has to read out the text in the next lesson, it’s really not that bad. Or maybe it has to do with the extra boost in the form of a smile and encouraging words from Shiro as they part this morning, 

“Spill the beans!” Pidge hisses between her teeth when Keith sits down again. “Who’s that hot Latin teacher?” Her elbow is sharp against Keith’s ribs. “We’ve seen you make heart eyes at him this morning so don’t try to talk yourself out of this!"

“Yes, tell us your secret, Keith!” Hunk joins in from one row behind them. “Is he a former TA who’s letting you use his notes?”

“And more importantly, how did you manage to land yourself such a snack?” Pidge adds. There’s a smug smile on Pidge’s lips.  
  
Keith just sighs, trying to focus on the lesson. Ignoring both of their nagging might be the best for now. Until he figured a way to phrase, “He’s an ancient demon, Latin native speaker, teaching me grammar while I try not to get distracted by his abs. By the way, he loves cinnamon rolls and sci-fi comics,” without them freaking out. 

The best excuse to ignore Hunk and Pidge comes when their professor talks about the written test in two weeks. As the semester is coming to an end, the Latin lessons speed up and so does the difficulty of their coursework. They’ve recently started translating poetry – something Keith learned to hate when he noticed Latin poets tend to just leave out words as they liked. 

Having his own personal tutor sure helped a lot and Keith has to admit he finally got the hang of the language, but still has no idea how he should write this test that makes about 40% of his grade. 

He tells Shiro as much when he sits down next to him in the library later, placing a paper bag full of pastries in front of them. Spending twenty minutes in the queue to get them is worth it when Shiro’s eyes sparkle at the sight of the danish assortment.

“Can’t I just wish for you to make me pass this class?” Keith slumps down on the chair, burying his face in the arms he’s crossed on the table in front of him.

Shiro laughs, loud and clear. And it would be charming - if it wasn’t for Keith's obvious suffering.

“I’m afraid that’s not within scope,” Shiro explains with a shrug. “It’s right on the list next killing humans and making you immortal.” 

He takes a cinnamon roll from the paper bag and takes a big bite out of it.

“I hate you.” Keith groans as Shiro’s foot nudges lightly against his shin under the table. 

“No, you don’t,” Shiro mumbles with his mouth full before he hands Keith one of the pastries in an appeasing gesture.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a bad demon? Taking my soul, feeding on my blood or my life force, enslaving me, or something?” Keith asks as he eyes the croissants in his hands. How did Shiro pick just exactly his favourite?

“Keith, you've watched too many of those moving pictures,” Shiro says with a chuckle.  
  
And the curse Keith mutters at Shiro gets lost when Keith takes a big bite into his croissant. 

  
**

Contrary to all his beliefs, the written Latin test at the end of the semester is easy.  
  
Too easy.  
  
Keith checks all the multiple-choice questions, inserts what he’s pretty sure are the correct tenses in all the blanks and he’s even proud of himself for spotting the ablativus absolutus in the translation part. And he still has twenty minutes to go until the exam is over.

He checks and double-checks his answers again, crossing out one tense he’s sure he’s messed up. Just to cross his correction out again and write the first answer over the blank. 

He had to smile when he read the familiar name Odysseus in the translation part. It makes his thoughts circle back to Shiro. Because they always do these days. 

Since the moment they met over Keith’s horrible attempt at a translation to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Shiro has sneaked his way into his heart with his bright smile and his love for nature and pastries. With his bedhead and the way he stumbles out of the shower some mornings, still a bit sleep-drunk and lovely. With his way with words and thirst for knowledge. 

It’s hard remembering that underneath the layer of perfect human being, Shiro is still a demon. Because Shiro is so utterly mortal, with flaws and quirks and the most beautiful smile. 

And passing this exam and getting a decent mark brings Keith just one step closer to his two remaining wishes. One step closer to saying goodbye to Shiro after his last wish is fulfilled. 

And honestly, Keith is not ready for that.

  
**  
  
“Congrats! We should do something to celebrate the end of your suffering!” Shiro says when he meets him after the test, waiting with him with a coffee cup he presses into Keith’s hand. It’s still hot. And it’s Keith’s favourite. Again.

He’s not sure if it's the warmth of the coffee or the thought that Shiro actually remembers his order well enough to surprise him, but his chest feels funny, warm. And he’s sure his heart skips a beat when Shiro smiles at him, bright and beautiful, sipping his herbal tea.

(“Wait, how did you pay for the coffee?”

“Why pay for something when you can charm someone?”  
  
“Shiro, did you use magic to steal a coffee?” )  
  
**  
  
On their way back home, Keith tells Shiro twice that he doesn’t know his grade yet and there’s still a chance he failed terribly at everything, but Shiro insists on going anyway.

So they take Hunk’s hoverbike out to the desert the next day. 

(Hunk hadn’t been amused when Keith asked for the bike, but the promise of returning the bike cleaned and polished sealed the deal. Typical for Hunk, he surprised Keith with a picnic basket full of sandwiches when Keith came to pick the bike up.

“Good luck with your date. I packed some lube, just in case. It’s hidden underneath the desert,” Hunk whispered, patting Keith’s arm. Keith only groaned.)  
  
The desert is endless and hot. 

It’s hard to concentrate on the heat when Keith feels Shiro pressed against his back as they make their way through sands and rocks. He doesn’t trust Shiro to know how to drive a hoverbike and after his first encounter with a car-beast (as Shiro loves to call it), Shiro is happy to sit in the back and wrap his hands tighter around Keith’s waist every time Keith speeds up.  
  
And Shiro’s laughter in his ear telling him to go faster is the most beautiful sound.

They stop at a plateau overlooking a canyon and Shiro spends a good twenty minutes just taking in the scenery, rendered speechless. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he opens his arms and simply breathes, feeling the wind. As if vast rocks and dry sand were the most amazing things. But his joy is contagious, and Keith spots a big smile on his own lips when Shiro motions him to stand next to him and simply breathe.

 _It really is beautiful,_ Keith thinks.

**

“Thank you for taking me here, Keith.”

The sun is setting faster than Keith can blink. But between finding the perfect viewing spot and eating Hunk’s sandwiches, the blue sky above them is slowly bleeding into hues of reds and purple. The first stars twinkle from the sky just when they finish the last bite of some cake Hunk packed and Shiro lies back, spreading his limbs on the blanket.  
  
He might not be in his full demon size, but his human form is just as impressive, and Keith has to chuckle. 

“You’re getting sentimental,” Keith says, shrugging. The night breeze is chilly, making him prop up one leg and wrap his jacket tighter.

“No, really. Thank you.” Keith only hums a response, his gaze fixed to the stars. The view is mesmerizing out here. Not a single cloud in the sky, blocking their view. Keith can make out constellations he definitely can’t see from his apartment, and he’s sure Saturn is shining especially bright this night. 

He’s enjoying the silence. 

They don’t say a word, don’t need to. Because just sitting in the desert with Shiro and looking at the stars is enough. Keith used to be used to silence. He’s been living alone for years, and Pidge and Hunk are the first people he can actually call his friends. But sitting with Shiro is something completely different. Because it’s not forced or inevitable.

It’s warm, filled with understanding and mutual respect. 

It’s entirely new. 

Keith definitely wants to get used to this.

“Keith, look. Leo is shining especially clear tonight!” Shiro’s voice interrupts Keith’s thoughts. There’s a smile on his lips when Keith turns towards him. His hand points to some star in the sky and his eyes are shining bright. The constellations above are reflecting in his eyes. 

And wow. The sight down here is even more mesmerizing than the starlight above.

“You really love the stars, huh?” As he answers, Keith nudges his foot against Shiro’s calf.

“Yeah. I always loved the stars! I was researching the constellations back in Rome. Not as fancy as you can now with your rockets and satellites. But we made maps and studied the movement of planets and stars.” It’s the first time Shiro tells him anything about his past. It’s also the first time Keith sees the outlines of Shiro’s tattoo glow in his human form. It’s a soft glow, the lines glistening purple in the dark.

“In Rome?”  
  
“Yeah. Before this happened.” 

As Shiro sits up, he rolls his sleeves back, revealing more of the tattoo. Keith knows it’s winding up nearly his whole arm, crossing the skin in delicate lines and shapes. “It glows like this every time I get emotional. Makes a great torch,” Shiro says bitterly as he rolls his fingers into a fist.

He sighs.

“It’s been two thousand years and I’m still not used to this ugly thing.”  
  
Shiro’s words are sad, bitter, but they can’t fool Keith. Because he knows what he sees. And what he sees is definitely beautiful.

“I think it’s beautiful. May I touch it?” He says. 

As Shiro hums, Keith’s hand finds Shiro’s forearm where he lets his fingers trace the abstract lines. They are warm under his touch, leaving his fingertips tingling. 

“You think it’s beautiful?” Shiro’s voice is soft, hoarse. Such a stark contrast to the bellowing demon voice.

Keith’s fingers outline the shapes on Shiro’s arm, trying to memorize their patterns. He’s seen the tattoo a thousand times on Shiro’s arm, but touching it, seeing it glow in the most beautiful purple, is something different. 

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean... you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” Keith doesn’t want to put Shiro under pressure. He wants him to come voluntarily. So he offers.

“I owe you an explanation, don’t I?” Keith can feel the muscles underneath Shiro’s skin tense when he flexes his fingers.  
  
“You don’t owe me anything, Shiro,” he says as his eyes find Shiro’s. They are soft, vulnerable. Human. But Shiro’s laugh is bitter. 

“Don’t say that. There are still two wishes left.”

“Shiro.” The name rolls from Keith’s lips so naturally.

Shiro’s eyes find the stars instead of answering. Keith can see Shiro’s human hand wander to the tattooed skin, his thumb drawing circles on his wrist. 

It feels like an eternity and at the same time like only minutes before Shiro answers, his voice stern. 

”It may come as a surprise to you, but I have not always been a demon.”

All of a sudden, a lot of things make sense. The vulnerable expression in Shiro’s eyes, his love for baked goods, his kindness… That’s nothing Keith would associate with a demon in the first place.

Keith smiles at him. “Could have fooled me.” 

“I used to be pretty human, pretty mortal. No superpowers and stuff. And I’m still pretty shitty for a demon. Can’t even resurrect people. Or make you rich. I can’t even escape from my stone prison alone.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Keith offers. 

Shiro exhales.

Inhales.  
  
And exhales again, before he starts. 

“I was a young apprentice of an astronomer mapping the night sky. But I was reaching too far. Mapping was not enough, I wanted to go to the stars myself! So one day, a wicked woman came to my door and promised me the power to go to the stars.” Shiro stops for a second. Keith can see his eyes roaming the stars.

“Young and naive as I was, I told her I would do anything for the power to go to the stars. So she gave me this tattoo and the power to wield dark magic. Little did I know it would cost me my right arm.”

The muscles underneath Keith’s fingers move again, as Shiro’s fingers curl in a fist. Even in the faint glow of the tattoo, Keith can see the skin turns white where Shiro’s nails press into his flesh. 

“Did she cut it off?” Keith can only imagine the horror of losing a limb and it makes him sick in his stomach.  
  
“No, it just… the lines appeared. And I remember I felt a huge force in my veins. Changing shapes was painful. My limbs were on fire when I grew into a nine feet monster. The horns broke through my head and I could feel shapes and marks burning into my skin. When I blinked again, my arm was gone and only the lines remained.”

“Shiro, I’m...” _speechless, sorry, feeling terrible, going to do anything to protect you from feeling like this ever again_. Keith’s thoughts are endless, but all of them are tainted by a fierce hate against the witch who’s hurt Shiro like this. 

Shiro catches Keith’s attention again when his hands find his head, burying his fingers in his hair. 

“The worst part was the voice in my head. A terrible, cruel voice in my head.”  
  
“A voice?” Keith’s hand gives Shiro’s arm a soft squeeze, trying his best to show him he cares. 

“Yeah, there’s still a cruel voice in my head whenever I’m in my demon form. It’s like a black cloud over my thoughts, controlling me. My former master, the Japanese man I told you about, used to call my demon form Kuro. The Japanese word for black. And he called me Shiro. Said we’re like two sides of a coin.”  
  
“You are very different from your demon form, indeed,” Keith ponders. He remembers the cruel, gruesome aura coming off the demon, remembers the bellowing voice and the glowing eyes. And how Shiro’s features grew softer, more human, once he changed into his human form. A form Keith thought to be a disguise when in reality, it was Shiro’s true form all along. 

“I prefer Shiro to Kuro,” Keith adds, his fingers finding Shiro’s wrist where he draws soft circles.

As Shiro turns to him, his features are soft, kind. No sign of the demon controlling his mind. Just like the man he got to know him as over the past months. “Thank you, Keith.”

Keith carefully bumps his shoulder against Shiro’s. 

“So how did you end up as a sculpture?”

Shiro shifts, bringing one leg up and propping his arm on his knee. He inhales again before he continues his story.

“When I transformed into a demon for the first time, the woman – Haggar was her name – remained by my side. I still remember her wicked laughter. She told me I should stay with her. Because she loved me. She wanted me as her lover, as her pet. With my last bit of willpower, I told her that I couldn’t grant her that wish, because I don’t like women like that. And that was when she cursed me. She was furious, a maniac. She screamed at me and laughed and cried and…”

When Shiro pauses for a second, Keith wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around him. 2,000 years in stone and now Shiro’s sitting here, baring his soul to Keith. The moment is fragile, intimate. The goosebumps on Keith’s skin are tingling, the chill mixing with his disgust towards the love-sick woman.

“... the last thing I know is she telling me that I’m cursed to live as a statue and serve my masters so that I will never find love.” As Shiro finishes, he shivers underneath Keith’s touch. His breath is uneven, too fast. Seeing Shiro, the man he thought invincible, lose his composure like this, is heartbreaking.  
  
“That’s awful.” His hatred for the woman burns hot in Keith’s veins. How could she do this to Shiro? Shiro, with his pure heart and amazing ambitions, did not deserve such a brutish punishment. 

“She was indeed an awful woman.” Keith has no idea how Shiro manages to stay as calm about it, a bitter laugh his only reaction. But maybe sleeping in stone gives you enough patience not to set the world on fire. “The next thing I remember is waking up from stone 800 years later, amid some huge royal conflict in France. One time I woke up in America. And later in Japan. 

“It’s always been the same pattern from then on. Wake up, fulfill three wishes, go back to sleep. And it’s always tainted by Kuro. Kuro taking over and raging. And I can’t stop him from killing and destroying people’s lives. We’re stuck in a never-ending circle. Guess that’s my curse for not reciprocating the love of a wicked witch.”

“So you’ll leave me, too? The second I speak my third wish?” It hurts to think he will have to say goodbye to Shiro, soon, leaving him to return to his misery. Sleep, serve his master, fulfill three wishes, and repeat. It’s a lonely cycle, Keith thinks. What if one day, nobody speaks Latin anymore? Would anyone summon Shiro if they could not read the words under his statue?

“Yeah, that’s how it goes.” The thin line of Shiro’s lips tells Keith enough. 

And the thought hurts. 

Keith had been a lone wolf, from the second his parents died he was used to fighting his way alone. Hanging out with Pidge and Hunk was the first time he could actually call people friends. But having someone to come home to… someone who sits with him in silence on the sofa when things got too much... someone who drags him to the next bakery because he really wants to try that one cake…  
  
Keith realizes how lucky he’s been over the last few months. Luck he’s never he thought he would have.  
  
Luck he would soon need to let go. “It’s... okay. People have a habit of doing that, I guess.“ 

“Keith, I…” But Keith shakes his head, stopping Shiro’s words with his own. Changing the topic is easier than letting Shiro in on the pain about his inevitable departure. 

Because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s avoiding his feelings.

“Doesn’t it suck, sleeping for 500 years, living eternally, and all that bullshit?” A laugh escapes Shiro’s lips, loud and clear. Not as bitter as the ones before.  
  
“Ouch, you really know how to hurt me, Keith,” Shiro says between fits of laughter, burying his face in one hand.

As their laugh fades out, they don’t talk for what seems minutes. The silence they share is warm, welcome, again. Just as if they were sitting on the sofa at home, bathing in each other’s presence. Keith enjoys the comfort as his eyes wander to the stars.

It’s Keith who breaks the silence again, his foot softly nudging against Shiro’s leg before he speaks. 

“Is there any way I could break the spell?“ he says. Shiro has done so much for him. It’s the least he can do to repay him, Keith thinks. And if that brings the smallest chance of Shiro staying with him – Keith won’t complain.  
  
“As much as I want, you can’t help me.” Shiro shakes his head.  
  
“But....”  
  
“No. It’s fine. See, I get to see something of the world, every time someone summons me. I would have never seen this amazing desert. Or found comics! Or cinnamon rolls. How did I live without cinnamon rolls and tea?” Shiro chuckles. The smile the sound leaves on Shiro’s lips is tainted by the soft glow of the starlight. 

“And most importantly, I got to meet you.” As Shiro bumps their shoulders together again, a chill runs down Keith’s spine. He’s not sure if it’s the cold or Shiro’s presence that makes him shiver.  
  
And, _oh,_ Keith notices, as they sit beneath the stars. 

He’s not the only one who needed saving. 

  
**

  
The big red A on his Latin exam laughs back at him. 

It must be a joke. His teacher can’t be serious. Three months ago, Keith would have bet he’d fail his Latin classes. And now? Now he’s aced his exam and saved his degree. All thanks to his demon teacher who managed to hammer the differences between different participial constructions into his brain. Shiro, who became more than a friend over the past few weeks.

Shiro, who welcomes him with open arms and a smile on his lips as soon as he sees the bright red mark Keith presents. 

“I’m so proud of you, Keith!” he says. It brings warmth to Keith’s chest. He’s never felt proud of the things he’s done, but Shiro makes it sound so easy. 

“It’s all thanks to you,” Keith answers, but it gets muffled against the fabric of Shiro’s sweater as Keith finds himself being pulled into a hug. A warm and soft hug, one that smells nicely of fabric softener and Shiro. Keith can’t remember the last time he’s been hugged or if hugs had always felt this nice. But when Shiro says “You’re amazing,” Keith’s knees give a bit. Good thing he can hug back to steady himself, his hands finding Shiro’s waist. 

They stay like this for a while, and if Keith inhales or tries to wrap Shiro closer to himself with his arms, he doesn’t care, not when Shiro’s hugs feel better than any validation his Latin grade brings. 

”So, first wish is done!” There’s a smile on Shiro’s lips as they part, while Keith already mourns the feeling of pressing his face into Shiro’s chest. 

“Time for your second wish. Or do you want to wait until next semester, see if you need any help with more courses? Though beware, my Spanish is really bad!” Keith has to snort at the thought of Shiro being bad at Spanish.  
  
“No way I’ll take a Spanish course,” Keith says and Shiro exhales dramatically, wiping non-existent sweat from his brow. 

“Phew,” he says.  
  
“But,” Keith’s eyes find Shiro’s while his fingers still wrap around Shiro’s forearm, giving a soft squeeze. “I do have a wish!” 

It’s more of a stupid idea than a wish, to be honest, but.. at least he could try.

“I’m all ears, Keith.” The smile on Shiro’s lips is warm, bright. It’s not the playful ‘I can’t teach you Spanish’ smile, but a softer one. One that is filled with pride and joy and something, Keith can’t pinpoint. But it makes his heart beat faster. 

Keith gulps, his lips curling around the words as he hesitates. It’s a stupid idea. Really. 

But before he can swallow it down, he spits it out.  
  
“I want you to be free, Shiro.” 

Shiro’s eyes widen in surprise, but the laughter Keith‘s feared never happens. 

Instead, Shiro’s lips press into a thin line and a wrinkle appears between his brows. Keith gives Shiro’s forearm another squeeze that only results in Shiro pulling his arm away. Leaving Keith devastated. 

“Keith, I’m not a djinn. This is not how it works,” Shiro explains, and Keith can see the hint of sadness in his eyes. And it makes him angry.  
  
“But what _does_ , Shiro?” The way Shiro averts his eyes should be enough of an answer. But Keith is not buying it. There must be a way. Keith’s hands find Shiro’s biceps in a desperate attempt to coax anything from him.

“What is it, Shiro? What would I have to do to break your curse?”

Keith knows it’s no use pressing further, not with Shiro’s sad eyes and his lips tight, but he can’t let go of Shiro. Won’t let go.

After what seems like an eternity to Keith, Shiro sighs. 

“Haggar’s curse…She said it’s lifted if I find someone who loves me like this. Who sees the demon side and can still unconditionally love me, with all my flaws.” 

From the corner of his eyes, Keith can see how Shiro’s left hand finds his right arm, fingers pressing into the purple lines of his cursed tattoo.

“Shiro...” he starts, but is interrupted when Shiro lifts his head, looking him straight in the eyes. 

“She’s a cruel witch. Who would love me like this? Who could love a demon who’s cruel and cold, who could kill a thousand men without batting an eyelash?” There’s so much sadness and hurt in Shiro’s eyes, it bleeds into Keith. He lifts his arm, his hand cupping Shiro’s cheek.  
  
“I can.”  
  
Shiro’s features grow soft underneath his touch. “Keith,” he says sternly, his words filled with disbelief.  
  
It takes all his courage to say the next words, but Keith knows he has to. Because if there’s one thing he doesn’t want, it’s losing Shiro.

“I can. Because I do.”

“Keith, you..?” Shiro’s eyes grow even wider, all the sadness giving way to surprise. Keith can see the second Shiro realizes what he’s saying in the way his mouth curves upwards, in the way his eyes shine brighter. It’s all the affirmation he needs.  
  
“I love you, Shiro. Because I know you. The true you. Who would never hurt a person, not even if he had to fight them for the last cinnamon roll on earth.”

“You love me?”

It’s the easiest thing in the world for Keith to answer.

“Yes.”  
  
And Shiro kisses him.  
  
Shiro’s lips on his are everything. There’s nothing slow or careful about it when both of them are desperate to chase the burning in their veins that sings, ‘finally, finally’. 

Keith moans into the kiss when Shiro’s teeth dig into his bottom lip and Shiro groans when Keith’s tongue finds his. It’s a passionate chase, underlined by Shiro’s hands pulling Keith closer by his waist and by Keith drawing Shiro closer when he wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck.

Keith loses all sense of time. And it’s not necessary, not when Shiro’s kiss makes his blood sing and his heart beat faster. How could he live without kissing Shiro? Without holding him close and giving him all the love he deserves?

As they part for air, Shiro’s eyes are glassy and his lips are bright red, puffy from kissing. He looks disheveled and if Keith thought he could not look any more beautiful, he was wrong. Shiro is ethereal like this. 

“Wow,” Shiro says. 

“Yeah.” Keith is in no way able to form coherent thoughts, not when he’s just been kissed stupid by the most beautiful man.

“You love me.” It hits Keith that he’s really just confessed. Hearing the words from Shiro’s lips makes them even more tangible. The weight of their meaning hits him, so much he can only press out a “Yeah.”

“That’s good.” Shiro grins. “Because I love you too.”  
  


Keith could do a lot of things. Could ask Shiro if he really means it. Could scream and lunge himself onto Shiro and never let go. Could bury his face in Shiro’s chest. 

But kissing Shiro seems like the best option.

Shiro seems to agree. At least the way he kisses back, this time slower but no less passionate, tells him enough. Compared to their first kisses, Shiro is nearly shy, taking his time to take Keith apart with his lips, letting their mouths slide together time and time again. 

The kisses start out more carefully, altering between soft pecks and long and deep kisses. Shiro licks into Keith’s mouth and Keith hums. He can feel Shiro’s hands wander, sneaking under the hem of his shirt to explore the skin of Keith’s back. It motivates Keith’s fingers to play with the soft white hair in Shiro’s neck, fisting into it when their kiss turns more passionate again. 

They stumble backwards until Keith’s knees find the sofa. It’s anything but graceful how they let themselves slump down, with Shiro kneeling over Keith, trapping Keith’s legs between his thighs and Keith’s body between his arms. 

Keith knew Shiro was big, but seeing him towering over him like that, being engulfed by his broad frame, is something else entirely. He tries not to let it show how much their position turns him on when Shiro bends down, cupping both his cheeks and kissing Keith again. It’s easy not to think when Shiro can kiss his breath away.

“Something is strange, though,” Shiro says between two kisses, bending back a little. Keith misses their proximity in an instant. “I can still feel Kuro’s presence.”

“Shouldn’t he be gone? So the curse is still there?” Keith says, letting his hands roam over Shiro’s body. They find Shiro’s butt and come to a rest.

“You know, I’ll miss Kuro,” Keith says, giving Shiro’s ass a firm squeeze. Making Shiro yelp.

“Keith!” He says, faking indignation. “Why? He’s pure evil.”  
  
“Yeah, but, he’s still a part of you. The first part I met,” Keith explains, letting his fingers slide under the waistband of Shiro’s pants and graze over the soft skin he finds. 

The surprise vanishes from Shiro’s face. It gives way to a smug grin sneaking onto Shiro’s lips

“Oh, I get it! You want me to be bad like Kuro, don’t you? Want me to enslave you and feed on your soul? Or feed on something... else?” Shiro’s eyes flicker down to Keith’s pants. Keith has never been faster to grab a pillow and cover his crotch, squeezing it awkwardly into the space between them. He hates how his body betrays him. 

The way Shiro’s sharp teeth dig into his lip while he smiles does definitely not help to calm Keith’s _interest_ .

From the corner of his eyes, he can see the faint glow of Shiro’s tattoo.

It’s not just his arm. His eyes are glistening in a dangerous yellow and Keith is sure his skin is starting to get a faint tint of purple. And where Keith’s fingers are wrapped around his biceps, Keith is sure he can feel Shiro’s muscles become _more_. 

”Are you getting bigger?” 

“Seems this happens when I’m emotionally aroused.”

“Emotionally aroused, huh?” Keith can’t help but grin. His fingers trace the outlines of Shiro’s abs, wandering lower until they find their goal in the prominent swell between Shiro’s thighs. 

“Let’s see what we can do about that.” It's about time for Shiro to lose his sweatpants, Keith decides, and Shiro seems to have the same idea, lifting his butt so Keith can pull the piece of fabric from Shiro. 

Technically, Keith knows just how well endowed Shiro is. He’s seen him naked in his demon form and his human form. But seeing Shiro’s cock now, already hard and pink, twitching in anticipation when Keith looks at him, makes his mouth water. 

“Wow,” Keith whispers, and Shiro chuckles while he shifts to the side, letting himself fall back onto the sofa.  
  
“Is the size to your liking?” Shiro says, but the smug grin turns into a silent _oh_ the second Keith bends down and kisses the head of his cock. He lets his tongue lap at the spill of precum and it elicits a beautiful sound from Shiro. His fingers delve into the closest sofa pillow where Keith grabs them and places Shiro’s hand on his hand.

Keith does not know what makes him feel better: Shiro’s fingers delving his hair, or Shiro’s cock sliding into his mouth, muffling the sound of Keith’s moan. 

As much as he wants to, Keith knows he can’t fit Shiro’s whole cock into his mouth, but he makes it up with enthusiasm, alternating between bobbing his head, and letting his tongue slide over the head of Shiro’s cock. Judging from Shiro’s noises, he seems to be quite good at what he’s doing. 

“Keith, please,” he hears Shiro groan. As Keith peaks up, he sees how Shiro’s free hand is thrown over his mouth, a weak attempt to muffle his noises.  
  
Keith lets his lips slide off, just to tease Shiro. “Sorry, what was that?” he says, emphasizing his words with a tiny lick over the head of Shiro’s cock.  
  
“You’re a menace for stopping,” Shiro huffs out a laugh, his grip in Keith’s hair getting firmer.  
  
Keith only grins at him before he bends down again to continue where he left off. He does not get far, before the fingers in his hair guide him upwards, right into a wet kiss. Keith is sure Shiro can taste himself on Keith’s lips but doesn’t seem to mind. Shiro licks into Keith’s mouth with pleasure, kissing him deep and filthy, making Keith’s go weak in the knees.

And Shiro takes advantage of Keith’s reaction, using the force of his body to flip them around. His hand glides underneath the hem of Keith’s pants, pulling them down in one swift motion.

“Not so fast,” he says as he wraps his palm around Keith's half-hard cock. It sends a wave of pleasure through Keith’s body, his veins singing in ecstasy. 

But it’s all too much, too hasty, when Keith’s head collides with the armrest of the sofa. 

“Shiro, Shiro, stop,” Keith exclaims, bringing a few inches of distance between them. It’s enough for Keith to shimmy out of his shirt.

“Did I do anything wrong?” There’s a mix of confusion and concern on Shiro’s face, and Keith’s hand finds his chest in an attempt to calm him. 

“Did you... No, no! Just... bed? Can we just take this to the bed?” Keith’s cheeks must be glowing red, judging from the heat he feels on his chest. But Shiro stands and pulls Keith up by his hand, bee-lining for the bedroom. And maybe, Keith thinks, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Keith forgets all his thoughts when he’s pressed against the doorframe leading to the bedroom two seconds later, sharing another kiss with Shiro. He can feel Shiro’s hard dick press against his stomach and, damn, he can’t wait to get his hands on it again. 

Compared to Shiro, Keith is tiny, especially trapped between the wall and the hard planes of Shiro’s muscles, but Keith enjoys it to bits. He can definitely feel the pleasure coil in his gut when Shiro lifts him up to carry him. Wrapping his legs around Shiro’s torso comes easy as breathing, and so does kissing Shiro. 

Keith can feel himself being lowered onto his bed, his back sinking into his pillows. Shiro follows suit once he’s gotten rid of his shirt, asking, “So, where were we?”

It’s a sight to behold, Shiro kneeling over him in his bed, naked. Like a young Adonis, like one of the ancient statues Shiro has been just a few months ago. But this here, having Shiro in actual flesh and blood and willing for him, is so much better than any statue of a perfect physique. 

Keith has never felt so hot.

What’s even hotter is Shiro bending over him, trapping him between both his arms, before he lowers himself to let his lips drag over Keith’s ear, whispering “You want to come?” 

Shiro’s voice is rough, deep. It’s sending shivers down his spine and Keith can’t help but nod. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Is that your second wish?” Keith wants to kiss the smug grin from Shiro’s lips, but Shiro flicks his wrist just right and, _damn_ , that feels nice. 

“Don’t... ah... get ahead of yourself,” he says, but he knows his words would have been more of a threat if he wasn’t writhing underneath Shiro’s touch. Shiro’s fingers are driving him crazy, alternating between soft touches and determined stroking. And, _yes_ , Keith thinks, he wishes for nothing more than to come.  
  
“Can’t hear you,” Shiro says, way too cocky. But combined with Shiro’s skillful strokes the words set Keith’s lower abdomen ablaze. 

“Yes, Shiro, make me come,” he says. And Shiro is happy to be of service. 

The rhythm of his hand gets more frantic and the way his thumb grazes over the head of Keith’s cock makes Keith moan his name in a prayer. 

Keith is definitely not proud of it, but he is way too aroused to last long. 

He comes way too fast, making a mess of Shiro’s hand and his stomach. His cum is pooling right underneath his belly-button, but he doesn’t care, not when he is able to watch Shiro lift his fingers to his own lips and lick them clean with kitten licks. The sight is enough to stir Keith’s cock back to interest, twitching lightly where it rests against Keith’s thigh. 

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” Shiro grins and Keith can see sharp fangs – he’s sure they hadn’t been there before.  
  
“And you’re way too smug for your own good,” Keith retorts as he lays back, still trying to catch his breath.

Shiro sits back between his legs, the perfect position to press his lips to the soft flesh of Keith’s inner thighs. That feeling is utterly new. Never has someone taken so much care of his legs. 

  
“Oh, I haven’t even started,” Shiro says between kisses. “Can’t wait to hear you screaming my name while I’m fucking you.” The low growl against his skin underlines Shiro’s words and sends a shiver down Keith’s spine. It causes him to let a moan escape his lips and bend his back.  
  
“You’d like that idea, huh?” Shiro whispers. Keith’s just come, but seeing the angry yellow in Shiro’s eyes has his cock definitely interested. It’s worse when Shiro draws the claws of his right hand through the mess on Keith’s belly. 

“Me taking you.” 

Keith can only whimper. Shiro lifts a finger to Keith’s mouth, smearing the cum over his lips. The way Shiro’s fingers play with his lips makes his body ache for more and Keith can feel his cock twitch in interest, already half-hard again. 

It’s embarrassing how fast Keith shuffles over, looking for lube in his night drawer. It’s even more embarrassing it’s buried underneath an assortment of his toys, earning him a raised eyebrow from Shiro. 

“Human culture surely has evolved,” he says as Keith hastily closes the drawer again and presses the lube into Shiro’s hands. 

“Is this some kind of oil?” Shiro asks, eying the bottle, and Keith is happy he doesn’t have to explain how Shiro needs to use it. Shiro seems to know exactly how to make Keith see stars. “Back in my days we preferred oil, but let’s see how this is.”

The first press of fingers against his rim is cold and surprises Keith who is still lost in Shiro’s massive frame hovering above him. Shiro’s sheer size engulfs him, and that’s something Keith did not know he liked until now. But it’s doing _things_ to him, sending goosebumps down his arms when Shiro looks at him like he’s about to devour him.

Shiro’s kisses wander from his thigh up to his stomach, nibbling at Keith’s skin and leaving a butterfly trail of feelings where his lips touch Keith. Keith focuses so much on the sensation of the kisses that he doesn’t notice the second finger entering him at first, but when Shiro moves both fingers in a scissoring motion, he manages to hit his prostate, making Keith draw in a sharp breath. Shiro strokes over it again, and a third time, and Keith curls his toes when the waves of pleasure roll over him.

He’s not mentally prepared for the second in which Shiro’s fingers leave him and Shiro turns him over. The last thing Keith sees is Shiro’s eyes, glistening in a dangerous yellow before he faces the headboard. 

He wants to complain, wants to face Shiro, but the feeling of Shiro’s frame hovering over his back makes the words die in his mouth. What comes out instead is a low growl as Shiro presses into him, the sheer size of his cock splitting Keith open. 

“You okay, Keith?” Keith wants to answer, but Shiro is so much, fills him so well. When he’s completely settled in, Kith can only hum blissfully. 

He feels Shiro’s hands roam over his back and one finds his throat before it delves into Keith’s hair, pulling his head back the slightest bit. 

“Do you like that, cor?“ Shiro moans. Keith’s Latin brain is not working, not when he has to grab into his headboard for leverage against Shiro’s movements. The word must mean something like _heart,_ and makes Keith’s heart flutter - at least as much as it’s possible while he’s getting railed into the mattress.

As Shiro’s thrusts are getting faster, his claws press against Keith’s lower back, wrapping around his hips to press Keith closer. Keith dares to look down and he can see Shiro’s fingers meeting over Keith’s belly-button. Shiro’s hands are huge, but the realization that Keith’s waist is small enough he can wrap his fingers around it completely… If Keith’s wasn’t close to coming again, the sight would have done the trick. 

_Wow_ , Keith thinks. _Wow_. 

“Shiro,” leaves his lips instead, when Shiro picks up his pace. 

It’s with an ease that Shiro moves into him, fast, rough, pressing so deep Keith thinks he can feel Shiro’s cock in his throat at some point. And Keith forgets how to think, how to be, his world narrowing down to the sensation of being taken by Shiro, his thrusts making him see stars and moan out gibberish between shouting Shiro’s name. At some point, he can feel the blanket rip and he has no idea if it’s from Shiro’s claws or his own desperate attempt to handle the overwhelming sensation, but _oh_ , it’s good, it’s great, Keith never wants this to stop. But he’s weak to Shiro’s penetration and comes, spilling over the ripped bedsheet two trusts later, Shiro’s name on his lips.

Shiro’s pace gets more frantic, making Keith moan out loud every time he grazes _that_ spot, before he stills, a deep growl coming from his lips. Keith can feel his cum filling him when Shiro slumps forward, his hands finding Keith’s chest and he burrows his face in the nape of Keith’s neck, leaving softest kisses and hot gushes of breath against Keith’s skin.

“I love you,” Shiro whispers.

And, “I love you,” Keith whispers back. 

Before his knees give in and he flops down onto the bed, taking Shiro with him. Being burrowed underneath Shiro’s weight like this is grounding.

“Was that adequate?” Shiro hums against his skin and Keith can feel the smile on his lips. 

“Uhum,” he answers, blissed out. “Though we might need to repeat this, I might need to learn a trick or two.”

Keith can feel Shiro’s chest vibrate against his back, and hears the howling laughter in his ears. “Can’t wait to give you private lessons. ”

And he can’t help but join Shiro’s fit of laughter. 

  
**

“I still have one wish,” Keith whispers against Shiro’s chest later, when they are all snuggled up in blankets on Keith’s bed. Keith is wrapped up in Shiro's arms while Shiro has one of his legs possessively draped over Keith’s hip. It’s a tight squeeze. Shiro might be back to his human size, but a single bed is definitely not made for the two of them and Keith already imagines them trying to find a bed that is to both of their likings. 

“You do, cor.” He can feel Shiro smile against the crown of his hair before Shiro kisses his temple.

“Cor. You said that before. What does it mean?” 

Shiro takes Keith’s hand and leads it over Shiro’s heart. Keith can feel the heartbeat dancing against his fingertips and it makes his own pulse rushing faster.

“It means, ‘Heart. Soul.’ Because you are.” Shiro gets hold of Keith’s fingers again and guides them to his mouth where he leaves the softest kisses all over Keith’s hand. 

Keith never wants the sensation to end. 

So he exhales deeply before he shimmies out of Shiro’s arms and sits up.

“My last wish, Shiro,” he says, a bit too determined. “I want you to stay by my side forever.”  
  
“Keith.” Shiro follows his movement, sitting up next to him.  
  
Keith’s hand finds Shiro’s face, cupping his cheek and letting his thumb graze over Shiro’s cheek. “I love you. Don’t you dare leave me ever again.”

“I love you too, Keith,” Shiro says, with soft eyes, before pulling him into a kiss. “Let’s see what I can do.”

And Keith watches as Shiro closes his eyes to concentrate on his magic. 

But there is no purple aura around him, no glowing eyes or sharp fangs, no stripes over Shiro’s belly.

The only thing glowing is Shiro’s tattoo, the lines fainter than ever. Keith focuses too much on the faint glow of the lines. Because he must be imagining how they are getting thinner and thinner. 

But he blinks and they are gone, leaving Shiro’s arm as if nothing’s ever happened.

“Shiro, your tattoo,” Keith starts, causing Shiro to open his eyes. It’s a lovely sight, watching Shiro examine his arm, eyeing every inch of skin for a remaining purple line. 

“It’s gone!” Shiro exclaims and Keith can’t help but be infected by Shiro’s excitement. It’s amazing seeing him like that. And even more exciting to think that he might be finally free. 

“But the curse…” Shiro stops in his tracks.

There’s a stern expression on his face, causing Keith to worry for a second. Did they do something wrong? Does breaking the curse cause any side-effects? 

But Shiro’s frown turns into the widest grin just a second later. “The curse is gone. I can’t feel Kuro anymore. Keith! I am mortal again!”

And Keith has to pull him into a kiss that he never wants to end. 

“Yeah, but how?” Keith asks once they part to catch some air.  
  
Shiro is silent for a moment, pondering. “Your confession must have broken the spell, but I still had to fulfill your third wish.”

“So. Do I get my third wish, now?” Keith mumbles against Shiro’s lips as they melt into another kiss. He can feel Shiro’s smile against his mouth and he’s sure there’s an equally bright smile on his own lips.

“Yes,” Shiro says. “I’ll stay with you. As long as you’ll have me.”  
  
“Hm... Let’s start with forever.”

**

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments and would love to hear what you think.
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